


Five Times Merlin Hid His Emotions From Arthur (And One Time He Did Not)

by WhatTheWentz



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Crying, Grief, M/M, Merthur af, Sadness, Smut, mostly angst, smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheWentz/pseuds/WhatTheWentz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is my first proper Merlin fanfic, and 5+1 fanfic.  Hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Five Times Merlin Hid His Emotions From Arthur (And One Time He Did Not)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first proper Merlin fanfic, and 5+1 fanfic. Hope you enjoy!!

**One**

 

It was Merlin’s second week as Arthur’s ‘servant’.  More like slave, with the jobs he had to do.  Every day it was get up, help Gaius, wake up the prince, dress him, give him breakfast, possibly save him from an assassination attempt, go and ‘train’ (which was code for be a human punchbag), muck out the stables and do whatever else was required of him.  Not to mention he had to do all this whilst receiving serial abuse from Arthur, whether it was insults to his intelligence and everything else, or ‘playful slaps’, which really hurt.

 

“Merlin, hurry up!” Arthur grumbled impatiently, throwing a knife his way, hitting the target board that his servant held and gripping his attention, “You are half asleep today.  Wake up!”

 

Merlin groaned, “Can I take a break, sire?  My whole body aches.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the prince exclaimed, “If you were in a battle, would you ask the enemy for a break?  Well, would you?”

  
Merlin frowned, “I guess not but…” he dropped the target onto his foot and shouted in pain, “Sweet mother of God!”

 

“You really are incompetent, aren’t you, Merlin?” Arthur walked to the boy, seeing his face fill with anger, “Ooh, is somebody getting annoyed?” he smirked at this, now loving that he had more to bully Merlin with.  He dropped his knives and sword to the grassy ground with a clatter, “Hit me.”

 

Merlin arched an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?”

 

“Are you as deaf as you are stupid?” Arthur pushed him to get a rise out of him, “I said, ‘hit me’.  Be more attentive in the future, Merlin.”

  
Merlin sighed, “I’m not going to hit you, sire.”

 

“Why not?  Too cowardly?” sneered the prince, pushing him again, “Go on, I dare you!”  
  


Merlin could feel his magic bubbling in his blood, threatening to boil gold into his eyes, but he forced it back, finding an outlet for his anger when he rammed his fist as hard as he could into Arthur’s jaw, making his head snap to the side slightly.  Merlin groaned, his hand cradling the other as his knuckles complained.

  
“Honestly, I think Morgana hits harder than you, Merlin.” Arthur remarked, “Let me show you how it’s done.” and without Merlin forseeing it, the prince rifled a punch to the younger man’s face, knocking him to his knees with the brute strength.

 

Merlin hadn’t expected that one.  Usually, Arthur would slap him, but never this hard, never with the intention to hurt.  The young warlock felt pain radiate from the area as a red mark forming, his hand rushing to the warm area.  He felt tears of pain and anger well, and as quickly as possible, abandoned the training session, darting to his chambers and collapsing on his bed, weeping softly as he attempted to calm himself.

 

Hearing the ruckus and being confused as Merlin rushed past him to his bedroom, his guardian Gaius peeped his head around the door, seeing him crying.

  
“Merlin?” he asked, his voice soft and kind, “What is wrong?”

 

Merlin shook his head, trying to stop himself and failing, “Arthur… he… he hit me.” he realised just how ridiculous he sounded, crying because the bully beat him up, “He punched me.”

 

He was seventeen years old, for God’s sake.  He needed to grow up.

 

Gaius disappeared into his study for a few minutes, then returned with a cold cloth, going to his ward’s bed and sitting beside him, “Let me see.”  
  
Merlin sat up, releasing soft gasps as he cried, less intensely now.  Gaius run his thumb across Merlin’s cheek, hearing him wince as he brushed sensitive skin.

 

“Merlin…” he sighed, “Luckily, it isn’t swelling, but I’d stay here for a few days, let me have a proper diagnosis.”

 

There was a knock at the door, and Merlin wiped his eyes when Arthur poked his blond head around the door.

 

“Is he alright?” the prince asked, looking guilty, locking eyes with his servant and rephrasing, “Are you alright?  I was a bit too rough back there, I’m sorry.”

 

A bit.

 

Merlin almost laughed at that, but didn’t want to risk it, so instead said, “I’m fine, it’s just a bit sore.”

 

“He needs at least two days reprieve, sire.” Gaius said, his ancient eyes soft.

 

Arthur nodded, “Very well.  See you soon, Merlin.” he grinned, then turned away.

 

“You’re welcome.” Gaius smiled at Merlin, holding the cloth against Merlin’s cheek.

  
  
  


**Two**

Merlin was shivering when he returned to Camelot, his face wet with rain and tears.  His first ever love was dead.

 

And he let it happen.

 

He should’ve found a way to save her.  To save Freya.  The young, cursed druid girl had perished in his arms after being stabbed by prince Arthur in her other form, as the Bastet, and everything hurt.

  
His throat was dry and scratchy from sobbing so much, and now, he had hardly any tears left to give.  He dragged his limbs as he shuffled past Arthur’s chambers, and the prince walked out when he heard his servant walking past, the guards nodding in acknowlegement.

 

“Finally, Merlin!” Arthur laughed, “Did you not hear?  The beast is no more.”  
  


At that moment, Merlin felt inclined to murder, and could picture himself wrapping his nimble fingers around Arthur’s throat as he slept and squeezing the life out of the dear prince, or perhaps using his magic to throw him to his death.  His fingers clenched into a fist at his side, his nails digging half-moons into the skin of his palm.

 

He swallowed, “I’m… I’ve gotta… I have to go.”

 

“What is it?” groaned Arthur.

 

‘Your so-called ‘beast’ was the only girl I’ve ever loved, you ass!’ was what Merlin pictured himself saying, then pictured himself being chucked in the stocks again, or even worse, executed.

 

He blinked, “I’m fine, sire.” he dismissed his own emotions that ran rampant in his mind, then walked in a zombie-esque manner to Gaius’ study, huffing as he sat on the windowsill, the tears falling freely now.

  
  


**Three**

 

“The last Dragonlord is dead!” Arthur had annouced hours previous, but Merlin couldn’t help but replay in his head.

  
His father was dead.  And although Merlin had never known the man, he had still loved him in an absent way.  Balinor may have only been there for mere days of Merlin’s life, but he felt at home around him.

  
And now, he was dead.

 

Merlin shakily helped Arthur out of his armour, tugging at his neckerchief before returning his duties.

  
“Are you alright, Merlin?” asked the prince, sounding truly concerned, “You’re silent.”

 

Merlin huffed, “Thought you want me to shut up.”

 

“That is playful banter, Merlin, nothing more.” Arthur’s hand touched his shoulder, and Merlin shivered, feeling fire trace up his arm with the gesture, “Tell me.”

 

Merlin shook his head, “I can’t.” he felt his grief bubble up and turned away as a tear rolled down his cheek, his voice cracking as he mumbled, “I’m sorry, sire… I have to go.”

 

“I understand.” lied Arthur -- he didn’t understand at all what was upsetting his friend, but he didn’t enjoy it, whatever it was.

 

Merlin darted into his bedroom as soon as he reached Gaius’ chambers, falling onto his bed as a wave of sobs toppled him.  He pulled the dragon model his father had carved for him out of stone from his jacket pocket, his thoughts drowning him.  He shed his coat, thinking now of Arthur and how if he faced Kilgarrah the next day, he would surely die.

  
He didn’t hate Arthur anymore.  In fact, he kind of loved him, in the way best friends love each other.  No, there was something more, something fragile and tiny in Merlin’s heart that felt more than platonically for his master.

 

But he couldn’t focus on that now, all he could focus on was stopping the Great Dragon, perhaps even killing the glorious creature, and ending the legacy of the Dragonlords.  He felt so alone in the world, so truly alone.

  
  
  


**Four**

 

Morgana was captured by Daegal, and all was peaceful in Camelot for once.  So Merlin knew things were bound to go wrong.  When the news of his mother’s passing reached him, he had fallen to his knees and cried almost hysterically whilst Gaius futilely attempted to comfort him.

 

The following day, Merlin turned up for work, dishevelled and wrecked-looking, his gasps of sobbing breath unmistakable, despite his attempts to hide the brokeness.

  
Arthur acknowleged his servant with respect, dressing himself as he saw Merlin shakily sit.

 

“I’m truly sorry to hear about your mother.” the prince murmured, turning to Merlin and giving a weak, encouraging smile, “I am aware what losing a parent feels like.”  
  


Merlin scoffed internally.  This was another thing he and Arthur had in common.  They were both orphans.

 

Destiny really was drawing them together.

 

“Where’s Gwen?” Merlin asked, “D-Do you need something to eat, s-sire?  Give me something to do.” he got to his feet, “Please, just give me something…”

 

Arthur sighed, putting his hands on Merlin’s shoulder and looking the taller man in the eye, “Come here.” he murmured comfortingly before pulling him close, “It’s alright, my friend.  You can stay off for as long as you need.”

 

Arthur’s hands burned into Merlin’s flesh where one brushed his throat, and Merlin tried to stop his heart rate from increasing, but couldn’t, and pulled away stiffly, not wanting to confront his emotions with his king being there.

 

He turned, mumbling, “Thank you.” before leaving, cursing himself for the want to kiss Arthur in his mind.

  
His king was married to Guinevere, the woman he loved.  The woman he was destined to marry.  Despite this, Merlin felt that Arthur was his other half and that he was the only person who Merlin could truly be with, no matter what he felt for Freya, or anybody else who caught his fancy, like, when he was alive, Sir Lancelot, or even then, Sir Gwaine.  Sure, Merlin could appreciate them, but he couldn’t ever love them as he did Arthur.

 

Besides, there was something clearly between Sir Percival and Gwaine anyway.  The young warlock walked into his chambers, seeing that Gaius had left his sleeping draught out for him, and picked it up as he fell onto his bed, not bothering to change as the tears started to fall.

 

He hated himself, he decided.  He was officially a curse.  Since he had come to Camelot, Will (his oldest friend) had died, as had Uther, Arthur’s father, Balinor, Hunith, Lancelot, all good people (with the exception of Uther most of the time).  Not to mention Morgana had turned evil, and it was all his fault.  Also, Mordred was still living, doomed to be the killer of Arthur.

  
Merlin downed the bottle of medicine, trying to shut his own mind up, revelling in the fact that mere years ago, his only problem was that Arthur was a pompous ass who was arrogant.

 

He closed his eyes.

  
  


**Five**

 

The king was dead.  Merlin watched as the boat sailed further away from the shore, his breath coming in quick, panicked gasps as the sobs overtook him for what seemed like the hundredth time in three days.  Arthur had died aware of his powers, but not of his feelings, which Merlin regretted the most.

  
Three little words and he couldn’t say them.

  
For the first time in his life, Merlin properly mourned.  He didn’t just cry, he wailed, he lamented, he howled, sinking to the ground as he felt like dying, hands bunching into fists as he punched the beach.

 

His heart shattered in his chest as the boat disappeared from sight, and he cried harder, just wanting Arthur back.  He was only glad that his king couldn’t see him in such a pathetic state, that he couldn’t see a thing.

 

“Arthur…” he whispered between sobs, “I love you… come back to me…”

 

When Percival found him days later, he was starving and broken, croaking out sobs, his head hurting from weeping so much.

 

“Merlin…” the knight sounded like he didn’t know his friend anymore, “Guinevere told us… told us about you.”

 

Merlin shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.  He’s gone, Percival.  A-Arthur’s gone.”

  
“So is Gwaine.” Percival’s head ducked as his own tears slipped down his cheeks now, and he felt his friend sit up.

 

Merlin’s voice wavered as he mumbled, “What?  No…”

 

“He’s dead.” Percival wrapped his arms around Merlin, “They’re gone.”

 

Merlin sobbed again, unable to control himself.  He was now going to be subjected to an eternity of waiting until his king rose again, according to Kilgarrah.  He wasn’t sure if he could survive.

  
  
  


**\+  One Time He Didn’t**

 

2015\.  So much had changed over the years, especially Merlin.  He had watched civilisations rise and fall, lost every single person he loved in Camelot, and as the years passed, the ones who he had fallen for had each died too.  But none of them were Arthur, so he continued to wait, just like Kilgarrah had told him.

 

One day, there was reports of an ‘old fashioned knight’ dredging himself out of the British Channel, but Merlin ignored it, his ancient mind dulled by the tang of whiskey, stinging his breath.

 

There was a knock at his door, and the old man made his way over, bones creaking under wrinkled skin.  He gasped in horror when he saw a soaked Arthur standing there when he opened the door, his eyes welling with tears.

 

“Hello, Merlin.” Arthur smiled, “Long time.”

 

Merlin whimpered a sob, then stepped forward, pressing his lips to Arthur’s, a golden glow washing over him as he reverted back to his younger form, looking again like the man Arthur knew instead of an old crone.

 

When he pulled away, he gasped, “Arthur, I did not mean to… I just… I can’t believe--”

 

“Hush.” Arthur held up a hand, stepping inside, “I understand.”  
  


Merlin closed the door, “It does not excuse it.  You love Guinevere.”

 

“I do.” Arthur turned towards his friend and sighed, “But I also love you, Merlin.  I always have.”

 

Merlin flinched at those words, “As a friend.”

 

“Yes.” he felt Arthur take his hand, “And as more.”

 

There was a gentle press of lips to his, and he gasped, feeling an arm slide around his waist, pulling him closer.  Arthur’s other hand ran up to his cheek, thumb brushing away the fallen tears that tracked over his high cheekbones.  He felt Arthur’s tongue part his lips and explore his mouth, the king having had more experience than Merlin at this.

 

Soon enough, the embrace went heated, and before long, Merlin found himself in bed with Arthur, the prince’s lips sucking marks into his skin as his hips jutted forward, thrusting into Merlin slowly and gently, pleasure ebbing through each of their bodies, Merlin’s hands resting against Arthur’s back and drawing patterns with his nails.

 

Gasps and pants for stolen air were exchanged between the two, whimpers escaping Merlin and grunts falling from the king’s lips.  A glossy sheen of sweat had stuck to both men’s forms as they fucked, and Arthur thought how he would one day, just study Merlin’s beautiful form, his hand running over his body, drawing a line of fire with it.

  
Merlin’s back arched slightly as Arthur’s hand wrapped around his trapped arousal, stroking in time with his thrusts, and everything began to spiral into nothingness, and the only thing that existed was Arthur.  Arthur making love to him, Arthur pressing soft kisses over his pulse, Arthur’s soft moan of his name, everything was Arthur.

 

“I love you.” he heard his own voice mumble before he let go, crying out Arthur’s name, his whole body dissolving into trembles.

 

Arthur continued to fuck into him, and soon followed his lover into bliss with a call of his name, collapsing on top of him before rolling to the side, fingers linking with his ex-servant.

 

“Well, that escalated quickly.” stated Merlin.

 

Arthur laughed breathlessly, “You’re not wrong.  I need new clothes.”  
  


“I’ll get you some in the morning.” Merlin groaned, then curled into Arthur’s side like a kitten, “When I can hopefully move again.”  
  


Arthur pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I love you, Merlin.  Never let that go.  I’ve watched you for over nine hundred years, continually seeing you have your heart broken, and all I wanted to do was hold you.”

  
“I love you too, Arthur.” Merlin sniffled, emotions overwhelming him suddenly, but somehow he didn’t care, “And I am so sorry that I was unable to save you.”

 

Arthur kissed him gently, “Shh.  Just sleep.  I’ll still be here in the morning.  I promise.”  
  


“Okay.” Merlin smiled softly, resting his head against Arthur’s sweaty chest, “Goodnight, Arthur.”

 

Arthur’s fingers traced down his back, “Goodnight, my love.”

 

 


End file.
